Monochrome
by Chirinah
Summary: One shot collection focused on Akashi and his childhood friend turned lover, Yamato Hanabi and the color red.
1. Chapter 1: Monochrome

**Age nine**

 **Monochrome**

私わ赤が大好き。

* * *

You can say I never really had a choice. He's always been there. Strong and bright and beautiful, a powerful presence that seeks to be noticed. With him constantly walking in front of me—beside me, behind me, everywhere—there's nowhere I can avert my eyes to.

Whichever way I turn, he's there.

He's _always_ there, filling my vision a crimson hue akin to roses and blood and sunset.

I have no idea who he is.

* * *

I know he's Akashi Seijuro, and he has red hair. His eyes are red too, and he never smiles. I mean, he does, but not _truly._ He can make an expression resembling cheer and glee, but his eyes never really change. It's always the same shade of red—dark like blood but pale around the edges. Like a young rose that's been cut off too fast, too early, from the stem.

I know he's supposed to be incredibly smart and capable and strong. Perfect in every way. He's polite and just, so, _so wonderful,_ I hear them say. A good child. A good man. He leaves a trail of broken hearts in his wake with his outrageously good looks and character. He draws the crowd in every gathering, his voice hypnotic, his arsenal of skills plethoric.

I know a lot of people practically worship him. He's like a prince—no, more than that. A king. An emperor. He stands above the rest without so much as batting an eye. Victory comes snuggling him in his sleep.

He appears like this perfect man who does no wrong, who always gets what he wants, always wins, but I have no idea who he is because the perfect man is so obviously a mask, a façade. I have no idea why no else could see, why they just assume he's this, this _absolute_ creature and give him their utmost respect without trying to get past the surface or, at the very least, wonder how he could possibly be alive.

I mean, if he's as perfect as they say, why hasn't he died yet? I'd have died of boredom if I could do everything as easily as he does.

Still, he hasn't died yet, so I assume there's still something lacking in his just about completely boring life.

* * *

I have no idea what it is. I have no idea who he is.

* * *

I know who I am. It's simple.

I'm the childhood friend. Been around him since forever. We aren't close. We don't have secret places and secret codes nor secret secrets. I just happen to be the daughter of his father's friend, who goes around their house often enough for him to know my name, age and face.

We don't talk a lot. He's usually quiet and I have no idea what to talk with him about. I've never been good at small talks. Mother said I was too honest, so she said I should just keep quiet all the time so I don't make enemies I'll regret later. She said I'd specially regret if I made an enemy of Akashi.

I didn't ask her why, didn't say it's ridiculous to be afraid of someone smaller than me (he was, until he grew up, damn puberty) but I knew I'd regret making an enemy out of my mother more than anything.

So we don't talk.

He's just there—beside me, in front of me, even in my fucking dreams. And he doesn't leave.

* * *

There's two of him, he says one day, left eye flickering from gold to rouge. He stares blankly as I simply nod in acknowledgement.

"There's two of me," he repeats. He seems to be conflicted whether or not to chastise me from not reacting as he hoped.

But I wasn't surprised, why should I widen my eyes?

"Yes, I know," I say.

And he laughs, mirthless and dark and hopelessly, hopelessly out of use. I remain where I am, because there's nowhere I can go. There's nowhere I want to go.

* * *

My eyes and memory are selective. I can only recognize things that are around me often. Stay away for long enough and chances are, I'll be asking your name when you get back. Akashi is an exception though, he always is. I recognize him everywhere. I see him in the red roses in my garden, in the blood flowing in my veins, in the vestige of sunset… he's everywhere.

I feel his presence even before he comes to my sight, and my senses come alive. I'm hyperaware of every move he makes, of his eyes, sometimes gold sometimes red, following me around. I feel his soul calling to mine, possessing me, owning me.

I still have no idea who he is, and I'm still just the childhood friend.

But I know I'll never be able to rid of him.

As he said, he's absolute. And he's damn resilient.

* * *

 _"Hey, marry me," red eyes look into green ones, intense and demanding, claiming the air around me until I ran out of breath._

 _"Why should I?" I foolishly, innocently ask, senses tingling with an emotion I can't quite name._

" _Because," he says matter-of-factly, "you're mine."_

 _I really, really don't have any idea who he is._

 _But I know there's no saying no to this man._

* * *

I don't remember when I wrote this one, probably during my Akashi-obsession period which was…I don't know. Just, reading this makes me realize that while I feel like I have changed way too much, way too little from then, I'm still a sucker for a yandere Akashi, and a good childhood friend story.

So, I think I may continue this. Not sure how I'll proceed, or when, haha, but I hope I can. Or, if anyone is interested in adopting this…hmm.

I'll just leave a prompt for all you Akashi-lovers out there:

 _ **He fills my vision with a crimson hue akin to roses and blood and love and I just know there's no getting away from this man.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Stilettos

I have decided to make this a series of interconnected one-shots. No particular plot, just stuff between Akashi and _his obsession_ , which happens to be his childhood friend called Anna.

Prompts and requests are welcome, so are reviews. Remember this story is about **childhood friends, yandere-Akashi, and my personal OC.** Word count will vary from a hundred to a few thousands.

Trivia: I decided to call her Anna because I noticed that the previous chapter was so focused on the color 'red' which is the reason it was entitled Monochrome. As such, I was reminded of the pretty little red thing from the anime K, which is also one of my favorites aside from Naruto, KHR and KnB.

 **Age twenty**

 **Stilettos**

Anna is raised to be the perfect doll, but she wasn't perfect. Like a doll, she is exquisite, beauty overflowing from the ends of her dark hair to the tips of her toes. Like a doll, she rarely shows any expression aside from the default smile her mother taught her and drilled into her facial muscles so well she sometimes does it in her sleep. Like a doll, she moves and talks as she is directed to without complaint. Like a doll, she is owned.

But while her Mother may believe she owns her, Anna knows she is wrong.

There's only one person in the world who has possession of Yamato Hanabi.

And he certainly isn't female.

An ornate black box is dropped on Anna's flowery bed. "Wear this to the ball tonight," the woman who has brought it says. Her tone is clipped and authoritative, issuing an order she thinks Anna will not dare defy. A servant opens the door for her as she goes out.

Anna turns from where she's standing, in front of a large ornate mirror, the skirts of her ball gown fluttering softly around her. Her hair is held up by a thousand pins against her head, riddled by a hundred flowers as red as the dress she is wearing. As red as the hair of the man who is sure to hold her hand for hours tonight, parading her for the world to see, making sure everyone understands who she belongs to. Her Mother will be smiling by the side, thinking how great she is for being able to raise a daughter good enough to catch the prince of the Akashi's, but Anna will know there is something wrong with that thinking.

Akashi Seijuro is no prince.

Anna takes the box and settles it on her lap, softly, like it contains the greatest treasure in the world. She touches its side and holds it open, revealing a pair of glittering red stilettos laid in velvet and a note. She takes one examines the blood red surface of the glass shoe, and imagines Cinderella may have felt the same way when she sees the elegant curves and angles meant to fit only her, thinking of the prince the shoes are about to lead her towards.

Anna smiles.

Next she takes the piece of paper stuck to the roof of the box, a pale cream laden in crimson ink, holding his words.

 _Wear this tonight,_ it says. And this, she knows is an order she won't defy.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," she whispers to the air, knowing somewhere a few miles away, her Emperor will be thinking of her. And her red stilettos.


	3. Chapter 3: Walks and Language

**Age fourteen**

 **Walks and Language**

He walks down the halls like he owns the place. It isn't arrogance per se, just an innate confidence that he _is_ the best person here, the best in everything. Some people hate him for it, but I see more that look on at him in admiration, whether it be inside the classroom where he often makes a fool out of his own instructors, in the corridors where everyone seems to part like the red sea to let him pass, or in the gym where he leads the team to consecutive victory with a smile.

We rarely talk in school. Our parents are business partners, often bringing us together in an obvious ploy to get us together but we aren't exactly close. I like to think our relationship is a mere mutual tolerance of each other, but I know that is wrong.

A few years back, he _told_ me to marry him. Told me I'm his.

And he's right.

He always is.

We rarely talk at school, but we have our own way of communication unknown to the world outside of us two—possessive gazes, secret smiles and encoded words that appear unusual to anyone else outside of him and me.

He tells me, "Good morning, Anna," and I respond with a "Good morning, Akashi- _kun_."

A casual declaration. _You're mine,_ and _I'm yours._

He tells me, "Anna, would you like to be in _my_ group?" _No one else is allowed to have you._ And I say, "Sure. Thank you, Akashi-kun," and allow him to usher me towards his work area, keeping to my side like a guarding knight, away from everyone else.

During P.E., he lets everyone believe I can't do strenuous physical activities and often tells the teacher to excuse me from the class, just so no one can touch me. Throughout the hour, he catches my gaze a hundred times, making sure my eyes are on him alone. I see his left eye turn gold a couple of times, holding my gaze just a little bit longer than when it's red, before turning back to annihilate everyone gracefully.

The girls in my class give me evil eyes. In the classroom. In the restrooms. In the corridors. Once, they cornered me in the back of the school while I was throwing out the trash and warned me to stay away from Akashi- _sama_. I kept my mouth close, just listening to them rattle off about some girl having a crush on my Akashi and me being in the way, an unwanted nuisance. They told me I was bothering Akashi, that he didn't want me around, and that he was simply too nice to tell me off. They called me a sympathy beggar, using my sickness to get his pity and manipulate him.

They noticed my silence and took it as fear, leaving me alone after a single slap on the face _for being an annoyance._ It turned red.

When Akashi saw me, he looked into my eyes, sharply, almost a glare. The girls noticed and started looking smug, before paling vividly when the glare turned on them. I saw the moment his eyes turned gold, and I knew for certain somebody would be having nightmares of red that night.

The next day, Akashi greets me with a lethal smile, saying, "Good morning, Anna." _I took care of it. I'll take care of you._ His posture is relaxed and stiff at the same time, holding my gaze with a steady right eye— _you're mine_ —and left eye flickering from gold to red to gold— _I'm yours_ —and I tell him, "Good morning, Akashi." _Yes, I know._

And his resulting smile is slow and bright and _real_ and he breathes slowly, slowly, _thank you,_ and turns away, walking with sure, quick steps as students part to let the Emperor pass.


	4. Chapter 4: Romeo and Juliet

**Age thirteen**

 **Romeo and Juliet**

Akashi Seijuuro hates my Mother. When we were younger, he used to glare at her whenever she was in the same room, tries to humiliate her every time she opens her mouth to speak, and even goes so far as tell his Father to forfeit their partnership. A partnership that had been going on for decades. He hadn't learned gracious charm and manipulative cunning then, but now he has and he is more dangerous than ever.

Now he smiles while subtly insulting everything about her, stealing her investors and taking deals she wants for our company. My Mother was amused, at first, but after realizing he is doing well in lowering her annual profits, she tightens her defense and plans a new offense.

She pulls me out of school, books tickets bound for Paris, and confiscates all my gadgets.

"A punishment," she tells me when I ask why. "For that outrageous boy of yours."

I feel something burn hot inside of me, churning my insides uncomfortably. I walk off to my room.

Inside, I open a chest hidden beneath my bed and pull out a sleek black phone—Akashi's secret gift for my most recent birthday. I turn it on and call the only number in its memory.

A single ring is all it takes before his voice flows out of the speaker. "Anna."

I breathe. Tell him about my Mother. By the time I am done, I can practically hear him gritting his teeth on the other side.

"Don't go anywhere," he says. "I'm coming to get you."

"Okay," I say. A doll answering her Master.

It doesn't take long before a sleek, black limousine parks itself in front of our house, from which a pair of red-heads comes out—one, a tall, aristocratic man in crisp dark suit and another, a lanky thirteen-year-old in a white gym jacket.

I smile to them from the front door. Akashi, _my_ Akashi stops in front of me and whispers so only I can hear. "Where's the witch?"

I purse my lips to scold him gently. "My Mother is not a witch, Akashi-kun."

He all but rolls his red, red eyes. "Yes, she is. She's about to spirit you away." _Away from me._

A smile. "Are you just going to let her?"

He looks at me in all seriousness. "Never."

"Then everything's fine."

" _Romeo and Juliet? You think we're like Romeo and Juliet?" Akashi says, bewilderment coloring his bright red eyes._

 _I nod. Shrug. "It's a short affair, but our parents did try to separate us."_

"…"

"… _Akashi-kun?"_

" _You…do realize Romeo and Juliet were lovers right?"_

 _I blink at him before breaking into a big smile. "They were thirteen too, right?"_

 _Akashi sighs. Puts his forehead against mine. "I won't let you die," he declares, looking into my eyes like he's looking at the most important person in the world._

" _Well, I sure hope so. I won't be able to marry you when I'm dead."_

 _He takes me in his long, thin arms, presses my head against his frail chest. "I also won't let anyone take you from me."_

 _I nod, because I know he won't. and I won't either._


	5. Chapter 5: Jealousy

**Age twenty-four**

 **Jealousy**

"Seijuro, stop," Anna Yamato-Akashi said, storming inside the cozy office, piercing a glare to the handsome redhead across the room, sitting comfortably on his swivel chair. Said man, her husband, merely glanced at her blankly before resuming tapping away on his laptop.

Anna gritted her teeth, trying to force down her growing irritation before giving up and throwing her heavy bejeweled handbag straight to Akashi's face.

Or at least, that was the plan. Instead, the handbag ended up hitting the wall behind him, when he turned his chair to the side, effectively dodging the heavy projectile. A crack was heard as one of the paintings broke.

Anna groaned. Akashi raised one immaculate eyebrow.

"What is your problem?" he said innocently, as though he hadn't just deployed his army to terrorize one of Anna's clients.

"You! You are my problem! Did you know who you just sent on a near-permanent coma lately?" She stomped to his table, slapping her palms on the surface, grimacing slightly at the pain it shot to her wrist. "He _was_ an investor! A big one! I need investors to push my project through, you know that! And now the largest investor I could find is in a coma withering away while everyone else is steering clear of me! What is wrong with you?"

Anna knew exactly what was wrong with him. He was a possessive, controlling, demanding bastard who thought it was right and proper to isolate her wife from the world.

A bastard who was looking at her right now like she was the most stupid person in the world. Where did her sweet, pampering Akashi go? "That's a grave accusation. Do you have any evidence to show for it?" he said in what Anna deemed the most condescending tone ever.

It took all she had to stop herself from slapping the table and pounding her feet. She had never thrown a tantrum before, not even when she was a child, and she was not about to start now. Instead, she leaned across to stare deeply into his eyes. "We both know it's you, Akashi." She sighed, trying to calm her crazily beating heart who was hyper aware of his breath fanning her face and her butt up in the air. If anyone walked in, all they would see is the two of them seemingly making out.

He smirked. She blushed. Cleared her throat. "Akashi Seijuro," she said firmly, trying to salvage her dignity. She took a few minutes trying to fashion words in her head, ultimately failing when long, slim fingers touched the side of her face in a gentle caress.

"Don't stress yourself too much. I'll take care of you," he said.

It was completely redundant. Anna knew, knew as well as she knew her name that Akashi Seijuro would do anything for her. She didn't doubt for one second that he _would_ , in fact, take care of her until she was bald and stinking and blind. But she also knew that she could take care of herself, and his meddling with her life was becoming excessive. She didn't mind much before, because her whole world revolved around him. But they were both adults now. They each had responsibilities they had to fulfill. Anna couldn't, and would not, rely on him for everything.

She was his wife.

She wasn't useless.

"You aren't useless," he said, standing up and walking up to her, cupping her face in his hands.

She leaned on his hands and kissed his palms. Looked into his red eyes, pleading. "You make me feel like I am." Another sigh. "And what you're doing isn't exactly legal, my love. I know you're probably never going to be convicted for any of those, but I don't want you dirtying your hands for me." Another kiss. "Please, Seijuro."

He put his forehead against hers, looking very much like he was about to cry. He wouldn't though. He would never let his tears fall where she was concerned, because he knew she loved him, and his tears were shrapnel's of glass against her heart.

"That bastard tried to kiss you."

Anna tensed. "What?"

"He tried to kiss you."

"…So you put him next to the door of death?"

He scowled. She would have thought it was adorable if she wasn't so bewildered.

She pushed him away. He stumbled back, still scowling. "AKASHI SEIJURO, YOU BASTARD!"

Sometimes, Anna wondered what she loved so much about this man. Seeing his shamed red face, a scowl marring his handsome face, she remembered.

Everything.

He still wasn't getting away with doing away with doing away with her investor, though. He lost her a lot of money because of that.


	6. Chapter 6: Cheesecake

**Age 6**

 **Cheesecake**

Our first fight happens on his sixth birthday. It's my fault.

I love sweets, candies, cakes—desserts in general. I have always assumed everyone does. Even my Mother does. So, on his birthday, I brought him my most favorite dessert: blueberry cheesecake.

It turns out he hates it. Or just cheese, in general.

So he gets mad, throws the cake to the ground where the ants are sure to feast on it, and runs to his Mother who gives him a fierce hug before scolding him for ruining a well-meant present from a girl. She says gifts are meant to be appreciated, and that it is hurtful for the giver if the receiver ruins it.

He runs to me and apologizes, giving a ten-minute long speech about appreciation, gift-giving, birthdays and basketball—not sure how that happens—but I give him the shock of his life when instead of graciously accepting his offer, I slap a nearby plate of food on his face instead before telling him to shove it.

The enemy of cheese is my enemy.

It turns into a complete fiasco where all the kids invited to the garden party follows my lead and starts throwing food everywhere, destroying thousand dollar worth dresses and shoes of their mothers and the stuffy suits of their fathers. Mother is horrified. Akashi even more so.

We do not speak with each other for an entire month even when we go to the same school and sometimes ride home together. We have weekly dinners with our parents, who seem amused with our little spat.

I am waiting for him to apologize. (Fifty years down the road and I still will be.)

He doesn't. Instead, he sends me flowers from their newly repaired garden and fresh cheesecakes from their kitchen while refusing to talk to me. He seems traumatized of my food attack, and is biding his time. Testing the waters.

When he gathers the courage to talk to me, it is at school, where we are surrounded by a hundred other kids who are far more snottier and stupid than we are. He tells me, "Good morning, _Anna_ ," instead of "Good morning, Hanabi," and smiles in a tentative way.

He offers me a box of my favorite cheesecake, and proceeds to eat it with me, face contorted in a funny way the entire time as he forces himself to swallow what seems to him the worst taste in the world while trying to smile at the same time.

I laugh and give at his third bite.


	7. Chapter 7: Winter Cup

**Age 16**

 **Winter Cup**

I push and shove and yell my way across the crowd of the airport, eyes scanning for a red banner meant for me as I pray to every deity known to man to _please, please don't let me be too late._

Because I _am_ late, and damn if this isn't the worst day in the world.

I have been gone for nearly two years studying in Paris, just like my Mother threatened when we were thirteen. Throughout that whole time, Seijuro and I were forbidden to communicate with each other, and as much as that saddens me, I can only wonder how much it wrecked my beloved Seijuro inside.

The past few days my Mother has allowed me to get news about him at last, and what I heard didn't make me happy. My Seijuro has cracked, and everyone around him has celebrated it.

Fury bubbled down my throat, tears stinging my eyes as I thought of what my beloved has possibly been feeling. He has likely felt lonely and abandoned, deemed himself the only person to trust, turned his mind into a ticking time bomb just about to explode.

And I just know he is going to do just that today.

I need to get there as soon as possible. I need to be with him.

Because I may not be able to prevent him from breaking, but I will not let my Seijuro crumple all alone.

I will be with him, and I will not let go.

The stadium is jam-packed with fans of both sides, and it's hard enough to enter as a spectator, much less as a spectator hoping to see things at close quarters. But I need to be by his side so I made my bodyguard do the work and left a wad of cash in the fallen guards' pockets as an apology.

I run through a maze of corridors, following the wild screams of the crowd to get to the gate and rush through the doors just in time to see him transform into a ferocious beast on the court, owning each and every one while leaving out the rest of his team.

He is fighting alone. I hold back the urge to cry.

I wish I can do something, anything to prevent this. I can see him battling himself inside his mind even as he shoots a three-point shot from outside the his opponents defense range. I can see a pair of red eyes peeking out through the gold, seeing things far more clearly, devastatingly, than his counterpart. I know he knows how this will end.

He will lose.


End file.
